Play It Again
by palomino333
Summary: "Peggy had been reassuring when she had told him that he wouldn't be alone. It was a shame that she hadn't, and now never would, realize as to what magnitude her words would backfire." Steve tries to pick up the pieces. Steve/Peggy, hints of Steve/Natasha


At one point in the film, Steve watches Natasha as she bends down and talks to someone, the camera becoming his eyes for a moment. This is never mentioned in the film afterward, and by the next shot, Steve has looked away from her. I realized that Natasha resembles Peggy a little, and this was born.

"Careless Whisper," by Seether, a song that I think would reflect Steve's thoughts on Peggy after awakening in the future, helped to provide inspiration for this.

I own nothing.

* * *

Rogers had no clue what had come over him.

Wait, where had he been?

Ah, right, he had been listening to General Fury's introduction to the helicarrier. Steve felt ready to laugh at himself. This futuristic device had more in common with something he would have seen in the realm of science fiction films as a kid. It was really saying something, considering the HYDRA technology he had come in contact with in the past.

But this…This was incredible. The size of the ship, the intricacies, the endless hustle and bustle on board, and the highly-advanced sciences involved…It was breathtaking.

Not to mention that Fury was also relaying important information about their upcoming task. Considering Stark only listened half the time, it was imperative to listen, lest the Captain had to clean up a certain billionaire's mess down the line.

Focus, he had to focus.

Still, it was so enticing not to as his eyes followed Agent Romanoff.

Natasha could give him nothing with her voluptuous figure. Granted, she did look quite nice, but this just wasn't the right place, or time. Besides, he didn't know her very well, and getting to know her on an intimate level wasn't on his list of priorities, rather his list of avoidances. He really didn't need to be taking his emotions for another turn while he was still licking wounds from seventy years ago.

Yet, she was a gift in herself. She carried herself properly, commanding those on board the ship, and listening to the reports and questions of those on board. In fact, she was doing that just now, half-kneeling beside a technician's terminal set in the floor below. Not to mention her skill with handling firearms…

Peggy?

Steve closed his eyes, turning his head away from Romanoff.

Carter's smiling face appeared once more to him, just as it had so many times before. That ghostly apparition…She had haunted him on many a lonely night, framed in a heavenly light. Her outfit would vary, drifting between the official, crisp general's uniform, and the slinky red dress she had worn at the pub. Sometimes she whispered reassurances to him, and others she screamed out for him, just as in that last transmission, before he had been forced to crash the plane…

Steve would grip the sides of his skull, shaking profusely as it would all come tumbling back, a mock scold of "you're late," the kiss on Schmidt's car, which Rogers later swore felt like flying, the broken promise for a dance…All culminating in the image of his hand, clad in a black glove, laying a bouquet of lilies at a much-weathered grave bearing Peggy's first and middle name, followed by the surname of another man, with "beloved wife and mother" carved in-between the names and dates.

Then one of two things would occur.

If it was a stronger night, Steve would let go, and lean against the wall, watching his memories play by as if projected on a screen. His heart would break once more as he saw those dear to him suffering all over again. Erskine, tapping his chest before succumbing to the gunshot wound…Bucky, oh God, Bucky…His much-beaten form would be once more strapped down to the operating table, followed by his long fall into the chasm below.

Rogers would just watch, and accept. It didn't hurt any less.

If it was a weaker night, he would scream Peggy's name at the top of his lungs, and try to hold back the tears, despite the few that always seemed to spill forth, the pain sharply lancing through him. Swimming in the undercurrent of that darkness would be blind, vile hatred against the instigator of this torture, Schmidt.

Funny, the antagonist had actually won that battle. Red Skull's dreams of immortality had been shattered, but he didn't have to deal with the extra baggage the victor had been given to carry: complete and utter loneliness.

Suicide? He knew SHIELD would have prevented him if he tried, but that didn't stop Rogers from considering it. It was so easy, break into an armory, any armory…It was even simpler than that. He used a gun in training exercises. All he would have to do was place the open end of the barrel to his temple, and pull the trigger…There they would all be, safe and sound. He would finally have that dance with Peggy. He would have the pleasure of seeing Howard again, and meeting his wife, rather than reading about their deaths via accident in an old magazine. He would finally celebrate that last victory over HYDRA with the Howling Commandos over a few drinks and many toasts, with his best friend by his side…

Rogers reopened his eyes, placing his attention back to the bridge.

That was why Steve knew he could never do it. None of those people would want him to kill himself, much less over them. He meant too much to them.

Peggy had been reassuring when she had told him that he wouldn't be alone. It was a shame that she hadn't, and now never would, realize as to what magnitude her words would backfire.

XXXXXX

Steve groaned, his head down in the low light. He stared aimlessly at the French fries set before him, the wrapper that had once held his sandwich empty.

Raising his index finger and thumb, he rubbed his eyes. Never had he felt this tired. Usually, he would be able to bounce back, but this? This was like being hit by a fully-loaded truck, only to have it back up for another round.

He glanced up at the sound of rustling paper to see Thor take a bite out of his massive sandwich.

Rogers smirked, bracing his elbow on the table. For the god of thunder, that was quite meager. He had to be tired.

Steve lazily cast his gaze around the rest of the table, taking everyone's slumped-over form in as they picked at their food. A swishing was heard in the background as the elderly woman on duty swept. So, here they all were, the powerful Avengers, having just saved the world, and looking like they all just come back from a hard night of partying.

He leaned back in his chair. Well, he had to hand it to Tony. Trying out a shawarma restaurant had been an excellent idea. Nothing fancy, but just enough for a party of their own (albeit a quiet one). Who needed a big parade, anyway, especially since they were all going to be really sore tomorrow?

Black Widow's hair was a flame in the light, its waves rippling. Even more so than before, she resembled Peggy. This setting, and Romanoff's disheveled appearance, bore a striking similarity to the night when he had been drinking over Bucky's death, and Carter had come to comfort him.

Cap braced himself for that all-too-familiar sting, the pain of the past coming back, but oddly, it didn't come.

His surprise was concealed by his body's absolute tiredness. For once, he actually felt…okay. It was as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

It was utterly silly. Sitting in a small restaurant in New York City at two in the morning gave him far more than anything else ever since he had awoken.

Rogers shifted, leaning forward. No, it wasn't just this place. It was the people in it. He took one final sweeping look before giving in to the urge to rub his eyes again, whilst stifling a yawn that had been building in his throat.

To call these people his Commandos again would be an injustice, as they were two different groups. To call Natasha Peggy would be the same, as they were two different women. Yet, that didn't stop the warm wave of affection he felt for each and every one of these people seated at this table with him.

Dysfunctional though they were on a regular basis, they became the team they had the potential to be when times go rough. Rogers knew in his heart that no one could replace those who had come before, but those he had met in the modern times gave him more than enough reason to continue to fight.

The fingers of his free hand drummed on the table. Besides, he now owed Tony for picking up the tab.


End file.
